Twenty-Nine Degrees
by Chastity1
Summary: [complete] He was a mass-murderer hiding from police forces. She was the golden angel of the light. Together, they were everything Odaiba didn't need and more.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon. Sorry, but no humour today.

*FOR VOODOODAISUKE'S CONTEST* (What an awesome handle…VoodooDaisuke…)

Notes: Takes place in 02, when the Digidestined are around fifteen or sixteen. Kenkari and Takari scenes. Slight yaoi, namely Taito. Blood, gore, and minor sexual references. The R rating is there for a reason. 

Twenty-Nine Degrees

By Pata

His hand was so beautiful. 

So soft and finely chiseled, strong and deft, so tempting. 

The pull of darkness...

She never even looked back. It was too inviting. Much too inviting. 

Their fingers interlocked, and their faces drifted closer.

His icy eyes closed and he pulled her to him. She gave up resistance and fell into his arms. He circled her with his arms and brought his face down to hers. Her breath quickened as he stroked her back. She shivered involuntarily.

She knew something was wrong.

She held his hand in hers.

Her amber eyes looked at him with a calm collection and obeisance. Their lips touched, and he smiled slightly, running his hand over her brown hair. Their mouths locked together; their bodies pressed gently against each other.

He never let go of her hand.

"Hikari," he said.

She understood. She looked at him with horror, her mouth open in a silent scream. And then she fell calm and grew weak with his smile, taking his mouth again.

The light and the darkness are one.

*

__

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends __

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper. 

*

****

The Beginning


	2. Resistance

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part I: Resistance

By Pata

The cave was dark and cool. Drips of water fell from the ceiling and landed with gentled pings against the ground. Stalagmites jutted up from the groud; stalactites hung threateningly from the roof. A damp mist wound itself through the cave, licking into the corners of the dark night.

Hikari huddled behind a stalagmite, her head resting on her knees, which were drawn up against her chest. Beside her lay the long black pistol, and, next to it, the knife. She didn't look at them; she stared constantly out her window at the waning moon, averting her gaze.

A wolf howled. Hikari did not move. 

She stared stolidly ahead, images of her master - she shuddered to use the term - floating across her mind. Her lips still tingled with the feeling of his kiss, and his blue icy eyes still glared at her from the recesses of her subconscious. She had known he couldn't be trusted, but even Hikari could not resist temptation.

She'd tried to kill him. It was just one death - to protect herself. One wouldn't make much differnce. There were six billion people in the world, for God's sake. But he was much to experienced for her. She had been able to resist him, even had she wanted to. Some deep part of her exsistence was glad for this new confinement, and with it a new freedom. 

A drop of water splashing onto her head and ran down the side of her face, almost like a tear.

"I have got to get out of here," she voiced to no one.

*

The phone rang for the third time. 

"Fine, if none of you will get it, I will!" Yamato Ishida yelled to his father and his father's "guest" - Yamato knew it was his father's girlfriend, and he resented that only slightly, but he didn't say anything. 

He picked it up. "Hullo?"

"Moshi moshi, Yamato," said a female voice, one Yamato barely recognized. 

Yamato practically dropped the reciever. "Mrs. Kamiya? I, uh, well...hi!"

She sounded worried. Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "Is Hikari at your house for any reason?"

"No," Yamato said, "I haven't seen her in ages. Why do you ask?"

"She hasn't been home," said Hikari's mother. "She is never out this late. I already called Takeru and Koushiro, but they haven't seen her either. I am very worried for her; I think I may have to get in my car and go looking for her. But Taichi is already out, and I don't want to leave the house alone..."

"I'll go looking," Yamato volunteered. "I've got a car. It's a peice of crap, granted, but a car nonetheless."

"Oh, would you?" Hikari's mother's voice was choked with tears. "That'd be so wonderful! Oh, arigatou Yama-kun, I cannot thank you enough!"

"It's fine," Yamato said. "Ja ne."

"Good luck...ja ne..." and she hung up the phone.

*

Yamato's car was nothing special, though surely not "a peice of crap". A small red coupe, not in bad shape; and he preferred the term 'cozy' to the term 'cramped.' A bunch of papers - mostly trigonometry homework - littered the seats, and an old fashioned handle clutch adorned the steering wheel. 

It drove well too, espcially at night, it's headlights could blind a man with his eyes closed. They were closer to x-rays than to lights, in fact. Not only that, but one honk of the horn was enough to wake the dead. 

Yamato had the window rolled down, despite the extreme coldness of the winter night, lest he hear Hikari talking. A bit of snow was sprinkled on the ground; the kind when a storm is coming but is not quite upon you. The road was icy but not enough to be exceedingly dangerous. If Hikari was out here, he wouldn't be surprised if she had frozen to death.

He rounded a corner, feeling the wheels skid slightly on the ice. A small girl was walking down the street; she seemed almost to glowing slightly was some unearthly light. It had to be Hikari.

"Hikari!" he yelled.

She did not turn to look at him nor acknowledge his exsistence, she only continued to look straight ahead and walk as though a zombie. That scared him much more than he wanted to admit, and the hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to rise. To arouse Hikari from her stupor, and partially to quell this new terror, Yamato brought his fist down on the horn. 

Hikari jerked abruptly and the light surrounded her went out like someone had flipped a switch. For a breif second Yamato thought he saw the light reflect on something shiny in her hand, but he convinced himself it was naught but a trick of the night. 

"Hullo, Yamato-kun," she said formally, bowing slightly. "What brings you here?"

Put off by her polite and apparently oblivious manner, Yamato snapped, "What are you doing out so late?"

Hikari explored the back of her neck with her hand. "Ah, just out for a walk. Getting some fresh air, you know..."

"It's one in the morning, Hikari."

She didn't speak. She didn't even flinch. She was so unnaturally calm and in control that it almost made Yamato suspicious. He sighed. "Get in." 

She opened the door and took the seat next to him, placing the papers delicately on the floor. No word was uttered Yamato drove Hikari home. No breath was drawn nor released - each too uncertain of the other's intentions to voice anything that might be taken the wrong way. 

She was careful not to show him the knife concealed within her fist.

*

__

The world of day, its bitterness and cark,

No longer have the power to make me weep;

I welcome this communion of the dark

As toilers welcome sleep.

*

Resistance is Futile


	3. C'est Dommage

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part II: _C'est Dommage_

By Pata

The door creaked slowly open and Hikari stepped noiselessly into the room. "Mum?" she whispered tentatively.

"Hikari!" Her mother whisked around to the door and gathered her daughter into her arms. "Oh, 'Kari, did Yamato bring you home?"

"Yamato?" Hikari asked, feigning cluelessness.

"He went out to look for you. You haven't seen him?"

Hikari shook her head. "No, I haven't seen him at all."

"How'd you get home?" her mother asked.

"I walked," Hikari lied. "It wasn't far. I went out for a walk, but I got lost. Turns out I wasn't very far from home though."

As to how Hikari could get lost in the faceless urban meadow that was Odaiba Mrs. Kamiya did not inquire. Instead, she said, "It's really late, Hikari. You should get to bed."

Hikari made an elaborate pantomime of being exhausted. "Yeah, I'll just go to my room." She left Mrs. Kamiya to puzzle over where exactly her daughter had been for the past three hours.

Hikari was certainly not about to tell her.

*

When he was sure Hikari was gone, Yamato opened his ocean blue eyes. His head hurt. He found it difficult to remember exactly what had transpired, but one touch of his fingers to the wound on his neck brought his memory flooding back.

He turned the bloody knife over in his hands. It was smooth and cool to the touch, almost like ice, serrated and slightly sickled at the top. It was silver, but stained with red from many years of illicit use. It was naught but a kitchen knife; any child would have access to it. The only thing that set it apart was the word etched into its hilt:

KAISER 

Yamato coughed wetly, bringing up a wad of bloody mucus, which he spat away into the bushes. His mouth tasted of saline and salty plasma, and every muscle in his body ached. Hikari, after drawing the knife across his throat, had taken his coupe as well, which meant he was – more or less – stranded. 

He was painfully conscious of the long, thin knife wound across his neck, and it hurt like all hell. Hikari's intention had obviously been to kill him. He'd pretended he was dead, and he was just lucky that she didn't want to chop him into a million pieces. Satisfied with her "kill", Hikari had taken the car and left Yamato bleeding on the sidewalk in the crimson-dyed snow.

Upon seeing the knife that had nearly caused his death Yamato retched and fought the urge to chuck into the bushes. He should keep it, he knew; it would come in handy as evidence against Hikari.

Breathing was difficult – the wound had lacerated but not severed his trachea or esophagus, though it had nearly sliced through all his vocal cords. His voice was hoarse and barely there, and every breath brought more blood and mucus into his mouth and throat.

He forced himself to his feet. His vision swam from blood loss and pain, but he steadied himself and began to walk to no where in particular. He wanted to get home, but he wasn't quite sure which direction was home. Yamato knew that death was breathing down his neck, and that his time was running short. Each beat of his heart spurted more blood from his injury, and every step shot electric jolts of pain through every inch of his body.

Regardless, he faced the direction he hoped would lead him home, and began to walk the tightrope between death and salvation.

*

The Takaishi's home was a cozy little apartment in which only two people lived: Takeru and his mother. At the time, however, Ms. Takaishi was out buying groceries, and fifteen-year-old Takeru was making himself breakfast.

It was eleven o'clock Sunday morning, and it was rare from anyone in the Takaishi household including their cat to be up so early. Nonetheless, Takeru was hungry and had set out to make himself an omelet. 

While waiting for his breakfast to cook, he had habitually turned on the morning news, not expecting to see anything of real importance to his daily life. So when the name Ishida was mentioned, Takeru nearly dropped the pan jerking around to look at the television. 

"Last night, eighteen-year-old Ishida Yamato set out to find a family friend known as Kamiya Hikari. Yamato, known as Matt and Yama among close friends, never returned from the outing," the newscaster informed him.

Takeru almost had a stroke. He gasped and leaned in closer to the television to hear the whole story. "Though Hikari was returned safely to her home," the anchorman continued, "authorities have yet to discover Yamato. They did, however, discover a patch of snow drenched in blood that is believed to be in direct relation to the mystery."

The screen showed Hikari, face wet with tears. "I hope they find him," she sobbed into the microphone. "I couldn't stand it if anything were to happen to Yama-kun!" 

In a state of shock, Takeru ran out of the kitchen and grabbed a phone, quickly dialing the Kamiya's number. 

__

Rrrring… 

"Please answer," Takeru pleaded.

__

Rrrrring…

Rrrrrring…

"Answer, damn you!"

__

Rrrrri – "Hello?"

"Moshi moshi," Takeru said, is Hikari there?"

"Speaking."

"Oh God, Hikari! What happened last night?"

Hikari's breath quickened. A muffled sob reached Takeru's ears. Actually, it sounded almost like laughter…Takeru smashed that thought before it could progress any farther. Hikari said, "I don't know! Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened; I hope your brother comes home soon!"

"Onii-chan will be home safe," Takeru said, trying to reassure himself as much as Hikari.

"Oh, I hope so," Hikari said. 

"Hai," Takeru confirmed. "Me too, 'Kari."

"Ja ne, Takeru-san."

"Ja." He hung up the receiver. Still in a semi-stupor, he made his way back to the kitchen, where he found his omelet blackened and burnt to a crisp, the smell of burning food still hanging in the air.

He sighed and set about preparing another one.

*

__

Tyger, Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye, 

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

*

****

End of the Innocence


	4. Darkness

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part III: Darkness

By Pata

Taichi Kamiya was never much of a sleuth – but with the disappearance of Yamato he had set about figuring everything he could to discover the lost boy. Hikari was puzzled by Taichi's new behavior; likewise him to her, he couldn't comprehend her oblivion to Yamato's disappearance. Though more than several things linked Hikari to Yamato's vanishing, Taichi was hesitant to convict her, which was the only thing that saved Hikari from police interrogation; they were suspicious of her as well.

Hikari knew that her crime had not gone as well as she had planned, but things were still going smoothly enough. One thing she regretted was leaving the knife – but she couldn't bring it home, her fingerprints were all over it and the police had already searched her house twice. She could have, of course, brought it back to it's original owner, but that would have meant a long trip coupled with having to see _him_ again, the man who had gotten her into all of this.

She could turn him in, which would avert suspicions from her, but he was an experienced criminal as well as a child genius, and there was little to no evidence to convict him. 

Hikari took part in Taichi's searches and desperate phone calls, but her heart was never in it. Half the time she would say she was making phone calls to find Yamato, and really order a pizza or prank-call Takeru. She knew that Taichi thought she might have something to do with the crime, so she did everything she could to be 'helpful' in finding him.

It was quite brilliant, really. Hikari and her master had planned the scheme out so well that Hikari even found ways to justify it in her mind. It wasn't over, of course; murdering Yamato had only been the beginning. The next step, naturally, had been to frame someone else.

That was where Hikari had messed up. She'd left too much evidence to convict herself. She knew it could be a fatal mistake, but she'd already set about correcting it. It would be hard work – it would take time and delicacy and much help from the man with the icy eyes who had taught her this life – but she was certain that she could accomplish it.

Hikari was going to frame Taichi.

*

News of Yamato's murder (police had declared him legally dead after searching for him for three days with no luck), which had now come to be known as the Twenty-Nine Degree Murder due to the temperature in Odaiba at the time, had reached America. The good old US of A didn't care a whole lot about one insignificant murder in Japan, but one pink-haired teenager in New York sure gave a damn.

"It has to be another Yamato Ishida," Mimi told herself, upon hearing the news of his death. "There has to be more than one Yamato Ishida in Japan."

She knew, of course, that it was _the_ Yamato Ishida, lead singer of the Teenage Wolves, local hottie bad-boy. She'd cried for nearly a week straight over his death and phoned Taichi and Sora almost every night to keep close tabs on any leads that might suggest Yamato was still alive.

There were none, of course.

Mimi didn't worry much about any murderers coming after her in America, so she wasn't extra careful or alert. In fact, when she received news that Ken Ichijouji was coming to America for the winter holidays she was overjoyed. 

He was staying in Massachusetts, but that wasn't far from New York – a three-hour drive, to be precise. He had phoned Mimi a few nights before confirming that he knew where her house so he could visit if he wanted. Mimi had given him exact directions, wanting a visit from the boy desperately. Her heart ached for Yamato, but Ken would have to do.

The day that Ken was scheduled to arrive in America, Mimi's father suffered a massive heart attack. Mimi found it hard to see this as a coincidence, but there was no way to convict anyone of causing a heart attack – according to doctors, it was "medically impossible." She spent the day in the hospital with her dad, and was told that he would recover completely.

Mimi's mother was away on a business trip, so Mimi, who was eighteen, had the house to herself for the night. She phoned Ken's hotel but was told that no one by the name Ichijouji was staying there, which puzzled her greatly. 

Nevertheless, Mimi didn't let it bother her. Perhaps the hotel had been full and the Ichijoujis had to stay somewhere else; there were a million possibilities. She slept easy, completely worry-free.

She awoke much later that night to a tapping noise. Her senses immediately shot into hyper-alert mode and adrenaline pumped through her body. She lay in bed, eyes wide open, unmoving.

Another tapping noise caused her eyes to fly to the window, but no one was there. She was sure the sound of her heart pounding was enough to wake anyone. A tinkling noise caught her attention. Mimi looked over at the window again, and a golden locket with a picture of all eight Digidestined, one of her favorite keepsakes, had fallen from the desk to the floor. "Odd…" she said.

She threw the covers off and climbed out of bed, kneeling down on the floor to examine the locket. She flipped it open. Along with her picture there was an ordinary piece of notebook paper, with one word scrawled on it:

KAISER  


Suddenly, the window imploded, and glass shattered everywhere. Mimi screamed, but of course, there was no one to hear her. She gripped the locket tightly in her hand. 

The man who had broken into her house saw her on the floor with the locket, and his icy eyes seemed almost to glow with hunger for it. She clutched it with a deathgrip in her left hand. Angrily, he ground his booted heel into her hand. She screamed louder, still no one heard; muscles and tendons tore, blood stained her carpet. 

But still she held. Eventually, her assassin grew tired of fighting and reached into his pocket, bringing out a long, shining pistol. Mimi screamed again, but it was cut short.

No one heard the gunshot nor saw the broken window.

News was later received that Mimi's father had mysteriously died abruptly at the hospital just hours after apparently stabilizing completely.

And so the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders achieved international fame.

*

__

A madman staring at the perpetual night,

A spirit raging at the visible.

I breathe alone until my dark is bright.

Dawn's where the white is. Who would know the dawn

When there's a dazzling dark behind the sun?

*

****

The Eclipse is Upon Us


	5. Lonely Wolf

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part IV: Lonely Wolf

By Pata

In northern Odaiba, there is a small river that feeds into a warm, mossy pond. It is shaded by a ravine of weeping willow trees which freeze over into mystical ice sculptures in the winter. The water in the pond and river is so warm that it does not completely freeze, even in the winter, and it is temperate enough to sustain life. Ducks nest in the reeds that surround it, herons feed on the fish that swim in it, and in the summer boys come to go skinny-dipping and play Tarzan.

It was here that Yamato lay sleeping in the snowdrift, his tattered and blood-soaked clothes wrapped around his pale, almost bluish, body. The gash on his neck had clotted and frozen over into a reddish blotch, and bruises and scratches covered his entire body from trekking through the woods for so long. He was horribly gaunt and ghost-like, thin and bony and malnourished. 

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open to join the world of the living and he wiped the snow from his eyelashes. He blinked several times to clear the ice from his vision, and coughed sickly. He crawled stiffly to the pond and dipped his head in like a great horse and drank his fill. He pulled back and shook himself, sniffling. He had grown somewhat used to the cold by now, though he was frail and dying; he knew that they had given up searching for him, but he didn't care. He knew his death was very near, and there was only one thing he wished he'd know. Had Hikari made it home safe? She haunted him in his dreams, her beautiful face looming up over him only to morph into a horrid monster and draw the knife across his trachea time and time again. He would wake cold and shivering and with tears frozen on his cheeks. 

What a way to die…

*

Perhaps the only person who had not given up on the search for Yamato was Taichi. Desperate and panicked with love – a love that Hikari knew and understood, as it matched her own love for Takeru and her master – he refused to believe that the boy he had grown so close to was gone forever.

Ken Ichijouji had assured Taichi several times that there was nothing he could do to bring his late lover back. Taichi didn't want to believe Ken; in fact, he was starting to suspect the boy was in on something. 

Ken could see Taichi's suspicions and took extra care to act inconspicuous. If Hikari had failed to kill him – though she had assured him time and time again that Yamato was gone and dead as a doornail – both killers were in deep trouble.

Ken was experienced enough in the assassination business to know that the one step to staying anonymous was to not let any witnesses escape alive. If Yamato was not dead, he could prove to be a serious hitch in their plan much later on.

Hikari did not know exactly what Ken's master plan was; in fact, all she knew was that one look into those icy eyes and dragged her down into this forever. She had to obey him now – she loved him in a way she could not explain – she didn't want to, but there was something about him that had pulled on her heartstrings. He was a mass-murderer hiding from police forces, Hikari was the sweet and innocent child of the light – the whole angel and fallen angel motif certainly made the irony all the more bitter.

One night, when Taichi had finished placing phone calls to various missing person shelters and bureaus, Ken asked, "Would you like to me to go out and search for Yamato myself?"

Taichi, who had come down with a bad cold, was not allowed outside; Ken could be his only hope to discovering Yamato. "Yeah…yeah, I'd like that. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, it's no trouble at all. I'll just go for a walk. You have a flashlight?"

"Hai." Taichi rummaged around in his rucksack and took out a long flashlight. "This should do. If you find any clues…just come home, okay?"

"Okay." Ken took the flashlight in his hand and vanished out the door.

The night air was cold and fresh; a new snow had just fallen. Ken's boots crunched on the icy road and he switched on the flashlight, hoping to find a sign that Yamato was indeed "dead as a doornail." His hand instinctively wandered to the pistol he had concealed in his jacket pocket, the same pistol he had used to kill Mimi over the winter hols; and then to his cell phone, so that he could call Hikari (or Taichi) should need arise. 

After fifteen minutes of utter winter silence broken only by Ken's humming of 'God Save the Queen', he finally stumbled upon a half-hidden brook the fed into a little pond, unfrozen and unnaturally warm. He shone the flashlight up and down the bank, his heart pounding against his breastbone. Something was not right with this river…

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took a tentative step forward. He dropped the flashlight and nearly screamed as his foot connected with something warm and soft. His heart nearly broke his ribs by pounding so hard, but he discovered that it was naught but a piece of cloth, stained with blood. 

He picked up the flashlight, but the batteries had fallen out. Wonderful. He hunted around on the snow, looking for them, with no luck. He sighed and chucked the flashlight across the river. He took a few more steps before stopping dead as he nearly trod on the sleeping Yamato.

"Is he dead?" he whispered to no one. 

Yamato moaned slightly, his eyes moving under their closed eyelids. Ken blew out through his cheeks. "Great. I'll have to kill him myself."

It was incredibly dark, so Ken could barely see Yamato at all, but he reached back and took the pistol from his pocket, removing the safety and cocking it. His hand shook violently, and he wondered why. He'd killed tons of times before, innocent people, and he hand no qualms about that. Still, he had to do this. Yamato knew too much. 

He steadied his hand, on which sweat was now beginning to bead. He could feel his grip loosening on the trigger. The gun clacked as his hand trembled, and he placed his other hand over it to keep it still. He pressed the pistol to the wound on Yamato's throat.

At the touch of the cold metal, the other boy's eyes flew open. Ken, surprised and scared half-to-death, pulled the trigger without thinking and shot Yamato right through the throat. The boy stiffened, and then vomited blood. He fell over with a last dying convulsion, and lay still.

Ken stared in shock and uncertainty. Yamato was dead now, at least he was certain. He covered the body with snow, pocketed the pistol, and ran the rest of the way back to the Kamiya's.

He told Taichi that he had no luck finding Yamato.

*

At the Takaishi's, Takeru was becoming increasingly more suspicious of Hikari. Unlike Taichi, who was blind to all of Hikari's faults, Takeru saw the things that she did and thought that she seemed rather distant and not concerned with the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders. 

Wanting to reassure himself that his best friend and hopefully future girlfriend had not killed his brother in cold blood, he phoned her late one night.

"Hikari? I was just wondering…well…any new leads in the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders?" he asked.

"Iie," she said. "We haven't seen anything." A muffled sob. "Did you hear? Mimi was killed too."

"I heard," he confirmed. Why did her cries sound so fake? "'Kari-chan, is there something you are not telling me?"

She seemed genuinely taken aback. "What? Takeru-sempai, how could you even suggest such a thing? I would not play any part in harming Yamato or Mimi!"

"Well…" he was lost for excuses. "Gomen nasai, Hikari. Ja ne."

"Ja ne." She picked up her notepad, which already had two words on it, "Yamato" and "Mimi", and scrawled,

"TAKERU"

*

__

Exotic eyes hide clouded thoughts

Of death and mutiny

For cold and lonely now she feels

Completely incomplete

*

****

Die Not, Poor Death

__


	6. From Taichi, With Love

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part V: From Taichi, With Love

By Pata

It took a lot of hard work, but eventually Hikari put together enough "conclusive" evidence to convict Taichi. She took Taichi's dinner knife and slit her arm to get blood on it, then she placed it strategically under his bed. She took his handkerchief and left it out near the snowdrift where the blood had been found. While he slept, she plucked single hairs from his head and left the around the crime scene, as well as getting him to touch as many suspicious things as possible. 

When she was sure that everything was in place, she called the police and told them that she suspected Taichi of Yamato's murder. The story, of course, was followed eagerly by reporters.

Taichi was as surprised as anyone when a uniformed policeman appeared at the door, requesting to search his bedroom. Taichi agreed; he was sure there was nothing in his room that would incriminate him. So he was just as astonished at the policeman when they discovered the bloodied knife under his bed.

"What is this?" the officer demanded.

"I-I don't kn-know, sir," Taichi stuttered. "Honestly, i-it must be H-hi-hikari's or something..."

The policeman took out a brush and began to dust the knife. Of course, as it was his dinner knife, Taichi's fingerprints were all over it. "This calls for a trial," he said.

Taichi looked faint. Hikari put on an innocent air and said, "It can't be Taichi, sir. He'd never murder anyone."

The policeman looked at her. "I'm sorry, but we can't go against evidence. In fact, we even found some of his hair at the crime scene, and a good amount of matching fingerprints around there. And even a cloth that was identified as his."

Taichi was lost for words. He was flushed and crying. "I didn't do it," he pleaded.

"That's what they all say," the officer said.

Hikari could not quite hide a smile. Perfect...

*

As Hikari ensured, the Kamiyas lost their trial and Taichi was sentenced to life in jail without parole. He sobbed endlessly for what seemed like forever, and Hikari put on a very believable act of being sad. 

One night, on Taichi's last night at home, Hikari pushed open his door. Taichi raised his head sadly, his eyes red from crying. Hikari looked as though she had been crying as well - rubbing enough alcohol into her eyes had done nicely for tears. "What do you want, Midget?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Just wanted to say bye," Hikari said, wiping her eyes. Damn, that alcohol stung. "So...bye, 'nii-chan."

"Go away," Taichi said. Hikari looked as though she might burst into tears (the alcohol was really starting to irritate her eyes). He smiled. "I'm sorry, 'Kari. I'll miss you so much..." tears traced new tracks down his soaking cheeks. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Hikari said, bowing, and she ducked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Taichi started at the dark wood for a long while. Finally, he threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. "I can't live without you, Yamato," he whispered. He got up and walked to the bathroom, taking his razor from the sink.

He turned it over, watching the bathroom light glint across its blade. He coughed. His heart beat hard against his breastbone. He turned that hot water on - he was told that would ease the pain.

First, however, he took a piece of notebook paper and grabbed a pencil. He wrote:

'Dear Mum, Dad, and Hikari -

None of this is your fault. I just can't go on without Yamato. I need him with me. My heart aches. And life in jail - you know I didn't do this. I would rather die than never be free again. I will miss you all. I love you.

From Taichi, with love'

And then he picked up the razor and put his wrist under the hot water. He drew the blade across it and winced slightly as the blood began to flow. He switched the razor to his other hand and slit that wrist too. He could feel himself growing lightheaded, but he felt no pain. In fact, it felt kind of nice...

He fell down, lifeless, with a smile on his face. The razor clattered the floor.

*

Hikari, her ear pressed against the door, heard Taichi collapse. She knew instantly that he had killed himself - it horrified her. She could kill Yamato or Mimi or Takeru but Taichi...Taichi was in her family! It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting it, she just didn't want to except it.

She threw open the door. "Taichi?" she rasped. No answer, of course. She hurried to the bathroom and where Taichi lay in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Both of his wrists were slit, yet a smile graced his beautiful face. 

Feeling real tears come to her eyes, she turned off the hot water and retrieved the bloodied razor from the floor. She quickly hid it in a cranny of the shower. She didn't want it to look like suicide. If they thought someone else had killed him, they might continue the search. She and Ken needed the publicity. They thrived off it. And as long as the "killer" was alive, Ken and Hikari could continue their homicides. 

But no, Hikari realized, to keep it from looking like suicide, she must make it look like a murder. She retrieved the razor and hesitantly placed the blade against his throat. Swallowing, she sliced a long gash across his trachea. She took the razor and made a series of cuts along his entire body, and then gouged out both his eyes. Satisfied but not pleased with her work, she washed her fingerprints off the razor and placed it back on the shelf. 

As she turned to leave, a piece of paper caught her eye. She picked it up and read it over. Taichi's goodbye. No one could see that either.

She shredded it into a bunch of tiny pieces and ran them under the water until they were nothing but mush.

*

Several days later, Takeru talked to Ken about his suspicions about Hikari. Ken, surprised at the boy's intuition and slightly worried for their safety, called Hikari immediately.

"Hullo, 'Kari?" 

"Ken?" She seemed surprised to be hearing from him. 

"I am calling about Takeru."

The memories of Takeru's accusations earlier came flooding back. Hikari swallowed and quelled them. She loved Takeru desperately...she knew she had to, but she didn't want to kill him.

"I know," she said, "He knows too much. He suspects too much. We have to eliminate him."

Ken cleared his throat on the other end of line. "What has he told you?"

She thought. "He thinks I am in on Yamato's murder. Possibly Mimi's too. And he is doubly suspicious now that my brother has..." she choked, "...killed himself." 

"You made it look like homicide, didn't you?" It was more a statement that a question.

"How did you know?"

"Assassin's intuition. Now, tell me, do you think the police will catch on?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Do they suspect you?"

"Dunno. Don't think so."

He began to pelt her with questions. "Do they have any new suspects? Did you actually murder Taichi? Are there any more leads in Yamato's death?"

"I DON'T KNOW! God, what do I look like, the Scotland Yard?"

"I...I'm sorry, Hikari. It's just, Takeru's knowledge is starting to bother me. He has to be eliminated - he could prove to be a major problem later."

"Yeah. I know." She sighed. "It's just..."

"Just what?" He sounded really concerned. "You love him more than you love me?"

"NO!" Hikari massaged her temples. "I could not love anyone more than I love you, Ken-kun. It's just that I do love him, and it is not the kind of forced love we share."

Ken grunted. "Whatever. Just take care of him."

"I will."

She hung up. Oh God. How would she ever kill Takeru? She sat for a minute, contemplating, until it came to her. She would take him on a date...and kill him. It was about the cruelest death she could think of for the poor boy.

She phoned him and left a message on his machine, inviting him to come with her to Odaiba Inn, one of the fanciest restaurants in town. 

He'd never be able to resist.

*

__

Oh, you're frail now

I shouldn't laugh about it

Tragedy sets you free but

I should have known that it was

Just another sequel

*

****

Miracles Gone Wrong 


	7. Iodine

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part VI: Iodine

By Pata

Takeru called an hour or so later to confirm his date with Hikari. He was suspicious of her still, but he couldn't say no to her for a date. He'd loved her for a long, long time. It was like a dream come true.

His love for her overrode all his reason and knowledge and blinded him with affection. It left him helpless and babbling. He wished he didn't have to love her; she was such a tease sometimes. But she was, nonetheless, his best friend. Even though he suspected her of triple murder.

He didn't tell Hikari that he suspected she had killed her brother. He knew that she was already angry with him for thinking she may have played a roll in Yamato's death, and possibly Mimi's as well. 

He put on a nice suit and a tie and tried to do his unruly hair into a fairly decent style. He wet it and combed it back against his head, but it wouldn't stay; in the end he settled for a toned-down version of his normal mane. He sprayed on some cologne and swallowed a breathmint. He had just turned sixteen and gotten his driver's license, so he was picking her up.

*

Hikari checked the clock. 6:51. Takeru was picking her up at seven. She put on a nice dress and combed her hair, spritzing some perfume on. As she replaced the perfume on the bathroom shelf, a bottle of iodine caught her eye. 

Iodine is a deadly poison that kills painfully and slowly when ingested in even small amounts. Iodine is nearly odorless, tastes like nothing when dissolved in another drink, and completely invisible as well. Iodine poisoning takes place instantly, is irreversible and incurable.

She put the bottle in her purse and sat down by the front door.

After a short time, Takeru pulled up in his late brother's red coupe, the one Hikari had stolen (but had later returned anonymously, because it was much to suspicious to keep parked in her yard). That car brought back a lot of bad memories, but she kept a perfectly straight face as she got into the passenger's seat. The murderer, riding shotgun...she chuckled.

"What?" Takeru asked.

"Nothing, Takeru-sama," she assured him. 

He smiled mysteriously. "I brought you something."

Her eyes lit up. She asked eagerly, "What? Oh, Takeru, you didn't have to -"

He pulled out a single red rose, fragrant and fresh and beautiful. "Red roses for love," he said romantically. She took the rose and inhaled its sweet scent. 

"Arigatou Takeru-sempai! That's so sweet of you..."

He smiled as they pulled in their parking space at Odaiba Inn. Hikari tucked the rose into her breastpocket.

Hikari and Takeru picked out a nice table in the corner of the restaurant and ordered two wineglasses of water - neither was old enough to drink alcohol. They spent precious minutes talking and joking, but all the while Hikari was aware of the time, waiting for the perfect moment to slip the poison into Takeru's drink. 

He was turned away, looking out the window and explaining something about the stars to Hikari when she reached into her purse and extracted the bottle of iodine. She murmured a sound of agreement as Takeru talked, opening the bottle and pouring out a small amount of the clear liquid into Takeru's glass.

He turned back and grasped the wineglass in his hand. Hikari's heart quickened. She almost wished he wouldn't drink it...she loved Takeru. But at least this way there was no blood, and the guilt of his death would not rest entirely on her. 

He lifted the glass to his lips, but set it down again without taking a drink. Hikari was sure he could hear her heart beating.

"Do you like chocolate strawberries?" he asked.

"Do I!" she cried, clasping her hands. "Mm... chocolate strawberries..."

"Me too," he said. "We should order some for dessert."

Hikari looked at the floor uncomfortably. "Yes," she mumbled. There would be no dessert for Takeru, she knew.

This time the glass touched his lips and he took a long, refreshing sip. Hikari stared. She didn't speak. He moved to set the glass down and opened his mouth as though to speak, but neither action happened. His hand began to shake, and he dropped the glass; it shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor, causing several people to turn and look. Realizing that she was under the scrutinizing eyes of tons of people, Hikari began to feign concern.

"Takeru?" she asked. "Takeru, are you okay?"

His eyes went unfocused, as though he were staring at something a great distance away. His mouth hung open, and he choked, "Hikari...I think..." but he couldn't finish. He clutched his stomach in agony and toppled out of the chair. Hikari leapt up from her chair. This time her concern was at least partially real. She hadn't expected it to take so long for him to die.

She cradled his head in her arms. "Hikari," he breathed, his hand still pressed over his navel as though trying to extract the poison from it. "Hikari, I love you. Aishiteru..."

She could feel him quaking. She didn't say anything. After a minute, she bent down and kissed his lips, and he returned the kiss; for a moment they were locked. She pulled back and felt him go limp in her arms, almost dead. 

She leaned down until her lips were nearly touching his ear and whispered, "I hope the irony's not lost on you, Takeru."

His eyes went wide with shock, but he couldn't say anything, for he was dead. Hikari reached over to the shattered glass and slit her finger deeply with one piece of it, causing tears to come to her eyes. "Someone poisoned him!" she yelled, so the whole restaurant could hear it. "I'll find whoever did this and kill them!"

She gathered her dress around her knees and ran out of Odaiba Inn. She took the red coupe and drove to the Takaishi's and give Takeru's mother the news. Then she went home and buried the bottle of iodine with her fingerprints all over it in her backyard.

There was no evidence to convict her.

*

One problem with Hikari's plan was that now she had all night to think about what she was doing. She had heard that snipers sometimes go mad thinking about what they do to people, because they have so much time to contemplate it.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't believe Takeru was gone. At her hand. She twirled the rose he had given her around in her hand, and then replaced it in the vase next to her bed. She felt so horrible about Takeru's death. She just couldn't take it.

Eventually, she phoned Ken. He picked up the phone. "Ichijouji residence."  


"Ken?" she asked.

"Kari," he said in recognition. "Did you take care of Takeru?"

"It is all over the news," she said. "This brings the total of the deaths in the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders to four."

"I already have a plan to take out Miyako," he informed her. "She and I are going for a walk down at the beach in a couple days."

Hikari murmured in agreement. She coughed nervously. "Listen, Ken-kun...I'm just not sure I can go on like this. All this killing - I'm starting to have doubts."

He voice grew cold and angry. "You don't have to. Fine. I'll do it myself."

"Ken -" she began, but her protests fell on the dialtone. He had hung up.

She replaced the phone on the hook and stared stolidly at Takeru's rose. A single red petal floated from the flower to her desk and rested there. 

The rose was beginning to whither.

*

__

That I could think there trembled through

His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

And I was unaware.

*

****

Bleed Just To Know You're Alive 


	8. Ocean Blue

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part VII: Ocean Blue

By Pata

About two hours outside of Odaiba there is a visitor beach, mainly used for marine biology studies due to its rich wildlife. A little way off from this beach there is a port, where other countries ship supplies to Japan. Miyako's parents, who own a ninety-nine cent store, go to the dock often to restock.

This particular time, Ken had wormed his way into coming along. Miyako was happy enough to except; she found Ken to be quite attractive in an elusive way. Her parents were less excepting of the strange boy, but Ken was a master of deception. He promised that he and Miyako would simply walk along the beach and the docks while her parents picked up their supplies. It seemed fair enough.

Ken beguiled and charmed Miyako into giving him her absolute trust during the two hour car ride by being uncharacteristically kind, generous, and flirtatious. Miyako was such as sucker for a good-looking guy that it hadn't taken much to get her head over heels in love with him. 

The beach was relatively normal, not particularly romantic or beautiful in any way. The currents in the water were strong and sometimes riptides would appear; swimming was forbidden. Out off the edge of the dock, the water was nearly twenty-nine feet deep -- a fact that Ken found not only amusing but also rather ironic: Miyako was another victim of the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders.

The temperature of the water was also extremely cold and cold not sustain life for more than a couple hours. Anyone lost in that ocean was good as dead. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" Miyako whispered. 

Ken nodded. "Come on," he said. "I'll take you to the edge of the dock. We can have a better view."

He took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. _Wow, déjà vu_, he thought. _It's just like Hikari..._

Together they walked to the edge of the pier, flirting dangerously. Ken almost felt sorry for Miyako; she really was making a fool out of herself. Ken didn't love her at all; in fact, he wasn't even attracted to her -- well, he -- NO! That was a moot point anyway. 

The reached the edge of the pier, still holding hands. Ken smiled to himself. It was going well enough. Not perfectly though. One thing Ken had definitely not factored in was falling in love with Miyako, even through the denial. That wasn't supposed to happen, but it could be overlooked. 

"Close your eyes," he said. Miyako, of course, obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It's just so romantic, Ken-kun," she breathed.

His breathing was laboured and quick. It felt like it was a million degrees out. In fact, it was only around forty-five, it was December, after all. He turned Miyako around so that her back was facing the ocean. She was about three feet away from the unblocked edge of the dock, which dropped off about six feet into the freezing and tide-ripped ocean below. 

He took both her hands in his and moved closer to her, forcing her to take another step or two backward. She was nearly teetering on the edge of the dock now. Ken couldn't stop his heart from pounding. His body was tingling. Without even thinking about it, he leaned in closer to Miyako and kissed her deeply.

He was just as surprised as she was. This wasn't supposed to happen! She fell into the kiss, of course, and he arched himself against her. He could fix this. Ken Ichijouji could fix this.

With the pressure of his body he forced her back another step, until she was on the very edge of the pier, and with the last of his energy shoved her back, releasing her hands as she plummeted backward into the ocean.

"KEN!" she screamed.

"MIYAKO!" he screamed as well, genuinely amazed at his own callous. He understood what Hikari meant now, about killing Takeru. It was the same kind of feeling. But he refused to give into it. He was Ken Ichijouji, God damn it, and he didn't care about any life.

There was a splash as she connected with the water, and a last heart-wrenching scream. Miyako, he knew, could not swim well, and there was a large current that ran directly through this part of the water. She flailed around in the sea, submerged to her chest.

The water was cold, and after a minute her body began to fall numb and her protests became more and more feeble. Ken stared over the edge of the pier, pretending to be concerned, but made no move to help her. The only thing above the water was her head...

...mouth...

...nose...

...eyes...

...forehead...

...arms...

...fingertips...

...and she was gone, only a stream a bubbles to remind him of where she had been.

He got up and walked nonchalantly back to her parents. He rubbed water all over his body to make it look as though he had been swimming; he scooped up a handful of saltwater and splashed it into his eyes to make himself cry. He then told her parents that she had fallen off the dock, and he had done all he could to save her but it was too late. 

*

News of Miyako's death was all over the television. The total number of casualties related to the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders had reached five, and no one had any idea who the murderer was. The fact that the murders had even gone through Christmas - which had been just a day ago - caused even more hatred to arise.

Ken and Hikari maintained normal daily lives and pretended to be interested in the case in order to avoid suspicion. Both knew that what they were doing was wrong, but it had become unreal, a sick game that they played. 

The one who was the most affected by Miyako's sudden and painful death was Daisuke. The boy had grown very close to the other Digidestined, close enough even to love her, to some degree. Her death, coupled with those of his friend "T.G.", his mentor Taichi, Mimi, and of course his sister's love interest Yamato, had driven him nearly to the brink of insanity.

Seeking release from all the hurt, Daisuke had foolishly turned to drugs. Only almost sixteen years old, and the boy was already addicted to crack. His grades had dropped so low that he had dropped out of tenth grade, and he was dirty and careless. His entire life revolved around his next fix. 

All of this wrecked havoc on Daisuke's body, of course. The amount of crack that Daisuke took each day was so abnormally high that he was literally killing himself - and very quickly. But he couldn't stand it. Too much death...he needed release. 

It was reported that Motomiya Daisuke died of a crack overdose on December twenty-ninth (a fact with Ken and Hikari found very unnerving). His body was discovered in an alleyway not far from his home. His face was contorted into a look of pain and unhappiness, and the words "I LOVE YOU" had been written on a piece of paper clutched in his fist. 

No one ever discovered whom the note was written for, but Mrs. Motomiya had it framed and placed in her hallway. The picture fell and shattered, destroying the note, only two days later.

*

__

All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends

I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life

I've loved them all

*

****

Beauty Fades


	9. Soul's Sojourn

Twenty-Nine Degrees

Part VIII: Soul's Sojourn

By Pata

The gravity of what he had done never really hit Ken until the news programs reported the death of Motomiya Daisuke, due to his love for the other victims of the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders. He was lying in bed one Saturday evening, counting the stars in the sky out of his window when it fell on him like a brick.

But he, being Ichijouji Ken, famous for his heartlessness and his ability to go untouched by death, did not give into it. 

It was a different story for Kamiya Hikari. Her late lover Takeru, who had died from the iodine poisoning she had given him, haunted her nightly in her dreams. His brother Yamato made occasional visits as well, as did Taichi and Mimi and Daisuke and Miyako, and many people began to suspect that Hikari was going schizophrenic. 

She would wake in a cold sweat, wishing for release from it all, but she would remember Ken and console herself back to sleep. Her guilt weighed her down constantly. She could barely take it. Sometimes it felt like the whole world was pressing on her and she just wanted to fade away into the background. 

She and Ken had arranged for a rendezvous in the Digiworld that night, so Hikari held her D-Terminal to her computer with a trembling hand. She didn't know what Ken might have in mind for her. "Digi-port open," she whispered.

She vanished. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounding by happy things: trees and flowers and little chirping birds, not death and blood and the stench of guilt and suspicion everywhere. She almost wished she could stay in this utopia forever…

*

There is a place in the Digiworld where bird Digimon go to nest. It is a little grove of trees surrounding a large lake, where the sun sets on the water and plays beautiful shadows across everything at twilight.

It was about this time of day when Ken came rushing through the underbrush, he clothing torn and savaged by the brambles. Hikari had her back to him, staring at her reflection in the water. This was the place where Ken had seduced her – the place where she had sold her soul to him in return for him undying love. Her moral sense of righteousness was under his complete control.

As she watched the reflection, she saw Ken come up behind her and stand over the water. She took a stone and dropped it directly onto Ken's reflection, causing it to ripple away to nothing like so many dreams. "What do you want?" she asked.

"We have to take out Sora, Iori, Koushiro, and Jyou," he said.

She turned to him, her normally gentle and virgin brown eyes filled with seething hatred. "Don't you think of anything except death?!" she demanded.

"To be honest…" he said with mock sadness, "no, not really." 

She made a guttural sound deep in her throat and pushed herself to her feet. She didn't meet his gaze, but instead walked a full circle around him and came to rest facing the now nearly-invisible sun. "I don't want to be under your stupid minion anymore," she said.

"You don't have a choice," he protested.

She reached around and stuck her hand into his coat, extracting the long, bloodied pistol. She pressed it into his hand. "I am going to walk away," she said. "You can shoot me now, shoot me in the back as a leave, or you can let me go."

Well, Ken surely had not been expecting this. His eyes were wide with wonder and shock. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she snarled. 

It was true. He did. He wrapped his fingers around the gun; it fit perfectly into his hand, like he had been meant to wield it always. His hand shook violently as he raised the gun and pressed it against Hikari's chest. Her eyes did not leave his – they showed a total absence of fear. They let nothing through. The only thing she let him see was the single tear that rolled down her cheek. 

His hand was trembling incessantly, and he couldn't steady it. He had to uphold his tao; he had to shoot her. If he didn't, he'd be breaking every rule he'd ever set for himself. But kill her? Kill Hikari? The girl for whom he was starting to have strange new feelings, ones that could not even be matched by his feelings for Miyako? He couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't.

Hikari sensed his hesitation. She wrapped her own fingers around the barrel of the gun and held it against her chest. Ken gasped. She really would rather die than be with him! He felt weak and uncertain and lost and alone. He was sweating buckets. The gun was slipping from his sweating fingers. Beads of anguish and dilemma were strewn across his forehead. "H-hi-Hikari…" he stuttered.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" she said to him, her eyes never leaving his. The single tear still remained, but her face was an unloving, hardened mask. "Isn't this your plan? Don't you _want_ to kill me, Ken Ichijouji?"

He swallowed. Everything hurt. Everything was a blur. Not even fully aware of what he was doing, but blinded by rage that this small and innocent child could be right; angry and irrational, he bared his teeth and tightened his sweating finger on the trigger.

The gunshot resounded through the entire Digiworld. Hikari did not cry out nor say one word, she simply collapsed to the ground and lay unmoving, blood flowering from this new wound.

He staggered back, horrified at what he had done. His mouth hung open, his hair agee, aghast at this deed which he had performed. But then, he reminded himself, how was this any different from killing Yamato or Miyako or Mimi? It was just that he had truly loved Hikari, and now that the Light was gone…

Only Darkness remained.

The gun dropped from his sweaty fingers, but instead of clattering to the ground like a metallic object should, it landed with the gentle lulling sound of a bell ringing.

The prophetic voices of Hikari and Miyako and Mimi and Daisuke and everyone else who had died as a result of the Twenty-Nine Degree Murders rang through his head. He clapped his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. "No…no…NO!"

He fell back to the ground, tears – real tears, for Hikari, and everyone else – stung his eyes. He had sworn never to cry, but he found that they came by themselves. Everything ached. His heart hurt. He had never known pain so cutting or real. He reached behind him and retrieved the gun. 

He slithered like the snake he was to Hikari's side, and grasped her cold, lifeless hand in his, just like all the times before. With his free hand, he pressed the gun to his temple. The cold metal felt alien and unnatural. 

There was no hesitation this time. No shaking. No sweat. He knew he deserved this. Still clutched his beloved's hand, he wiped the tears from his eyes and whispered, "My Hikari, I am coming to join you."

He paused for a long backward look. "I only did it for the fame. I just wanted to die remembered. I guess I chose the wrong path," he said. "But I got my fifteen minutes of fame." Out of respect, he listed everyone who had died at his hand. "Daisuke, Mimi, Mr. Tachikawa, Taichi, Yamato, Miyako…Hikari. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry." He meant it. Meant it with all his heart and every fiber of his body. 

And without a single breath of doubt, he pulled the trigger.

****

In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes. –Andy Warhol

*

__

Time is a wheel in constant motion always

Rolling us along

Tell me who

Wants to look back on their years and wonder

Where those years have gone

*

****

Fini


End file.
